I Got Yer AU Right Here
by Thescarredman
Summary: A collection of what-if Firefly story snippets inspired by Fallshirmjager, who has since changed his name... Coincidence? I think not.
1. Chapter 1

_**As far as Firefly is concerned, I'm no AU writer; I even flinch from doing BDM, because I think the movie and the series are irreconcilable. But sometimes an idea pops into my head and stays there, clogging it, until I get it down. Fallshirmjager commented that 'Man of Action' seemed AU because it didn't follow post-BDM canon, and as fast as you can say, 'Oh, yeah?' the floodgate opened. Some of these might be developed into real stories. If anyone wants to run with them, they're yours. Send me a message when you post, though; I'd like to see what someone else does with them.**_

Lawrence Dobson was a man suddenly faced with crisis and opportunity. And Lawrence, being rather high-strung, wasn't handling either well.

For the past three years, he'd been a municipal cop in Aster, a good-sized burg on Persephone. That whole time, he'd been attached to the Small Crimes Division, a dead-end job dealing with pickpockets, vandals, and shoplifters. It was frustratingly undemanding work; it took a truly stupid individual to try to work a crowd or mark up a wall with cameras watching your every move. The shoplifters were even stupider, trying to get ident-tagged items past the detectors at the stores' doors. Dobson's part in bringing such people to justice usually consisted of riding out to the store's security office to pick them up. He'd been known to take his frustrations out on such rejects on the way to the station from time to time, which might be one reason he couldn't get promoted here with any bribe he could afford. He'd been submitting applications to police forces all over, trying to find a better job.

Finally, one of his offworld applications had come back with an appointment for an interview. It was from the Boros Federated Police, a real move up and a golden opportunity just a step away from Federal service.

But the interview was scheduled for five days from now, and there were no liners scheduled to dock at Boros in time. A charter was way beyond his means. That left just one possibility: one of the small private ships that wandered among the worlds taking on passengers and cargo.

But the only place such tramps were allowed to land on Persephone was Eavesdown Dock, where Chinese gangs kept order, and cops, even Feds, traveled only in pairs. If he wanted to take ship to Boros from Eavesdown, it would have to be as a private citizen.

It had gone smoother than he'd expected. He'd been told that hardened criminals could smell cops, but no one questioned his identity as he'd asked around for a suitable ship, and he'd found one quickly.

As he stowed his gear in the cargo hold with the other passengers, his attention wandered to a well-dressed young man escorting a cryo box into the ship. He'd overheard the little redhead at the ramp introduce him to the captain as 'Simon.'

Then he remembered a bulletin that had come out a while back about a fugitive named Simon Tam. _Kidnapping. Criminal trespass on Federal Property. Theft of Federal Property. Conspiracy. Aiding and abetting an escape from custody. Flight to avoid arrest._ Several other charges he couldn't remember.

The name didn't mean anything, really; 'Simon' was a common enough name in the Core, and 'Tam' was common as dirt, like 'Smith' or 'Chan'. It might even be an alias. He'd need a closer look.

The boy bent over the box, intent on the telltales. Dobson drew close and pretended to stumble over him as he put away his gear, in order to get a better look. The young man's features seemed close to the picture he'd seen, but he couldn't be sure. He decided to call up the bulletin on the Cortex as soon as he got to his room.

Deep in thought, he stumbled over a hatch lip on his way to his room, nearly dropping his bag. He snapped out of his fog. _Idiot. You get out of Shoplifter Central for a day, and you're a manhunter. What are the odds of stumbling on a dangerous Federal fugitive your first time offworld?_ He reviewed the list of charges. _This guy doesn't look half desperate enough. He might steal from a pension fund, but he's not going to tweak the government's nose; everything about him screams 'Establishment.'_

Shaking his head at his own credulity, he entered his room, resolving not to compound his folly by looking up the bulletin, and settled in for the trip to his interview.

III

Mal watched through the airlock window until the traitor stirred, then tapped on the window for attention, com in hand, and pointed to the matching unit on the floor.

His unit squawked. "_Sir? Mal? What-"_

"What did I tell you, Zoë?" He glared through the window at her wide-eyed face. "I told you I was the only one for you, back when we were humping in the mud between artillery barrages. You believed it then, but you forgot." He turned his back on her, as she'd turned her back on him. "Did you really think I was gonna let you go to rut with another man under my roof, eat together at my table? Huh?"

No answer. He looked through the window again, and saw why. The com was on the deck behind her while she held the body of her husband in her arms. Mal wasn't proud of that; Zoë had been the faithless one, Wash had just done what came natural, but there was no way he could have the pilot aboard after he'd settled with his traitorous mate. He'd smiled behind gritted teeth for months, watching them together, waiting for someone to board who could take over as pilot. Wash had foolishly agreed to train up Jayne for a backup.

He started up the catwalk steps. "Used to keelhaul traitors, back in the day, but I don't have a keel to haul you on, so…" He hit the button to drop the ramp, and the roaring of the wind drowned out her brief scream.

III

Jayne, dressed in a paramedic's uniform, opened the door to the courtyard and gestured impatiently. Simon rolled his sister's wheelchair towards the exit, making soothing sounds while she whimpered, "No, I don't wanna go back…"

The moment they cleared the door, uniformed officers appeared from all sides. Simon spun and tried to go back, only to be blocked by their big companion.

"Simon Tam," Jayne intoned, "by the authority vested in me by the Federated Alliance of Planets, you are bound by law."

An officer stepped up as Simon and his sister were cuffed. "Excellent work, Agent Cobb."

Jayne spat on the concrete. "Pure luck. I spend two years movin among the scum of the 'Verse, looking for signs the Independents don't know they're beat. I figure tramp ships would be a good way for rebels to move people and messages and such, so I latch onto one that looks especially promising. And come up completely dry after eighteen months. I'm about ready to give up when this dandy comes aboard with his little sister, and I find out we've been looking in all the wrong places for rebel activity."

"What do you want to do with them?"

He waved a hand. "Send the girl back where he got her from, I suppose. But _you-_" He looked with feral intensity at the shocked young doctor. "You are gonna tell me everything you know about the Resistance. Then you're gonna tell me everything you don't know you know. Gonna wring you out like a rag, Mister Top Three Percent. When I'm done, you won't be able to count to eleven with your shoes on."


	2. Chapter 2

"Give me my wedding night." Saffron glided up to the captain and tipped her face up, feeling the thrill of the conquest singing in her. This one had been harder than most; she'd had to set the scene carefully, and had been forced to change tack more than once, looking for the key that unlocked Malcolm Reynolds's reserve. But she had him now. She could already feel his lips on hers, and the almost orgasmic pleasure that would come from the brief moment of realization in his eyes just before he hit the floor.

"Oh, I'm goin to the special Hell." His hands grasped her bare shoulders. "But not for this." He turned her around. "Get dressed, little one. This is no way to start a new life, still stuck to the old. Nobody knows that better than me. I'm goin to my bunk alone tonight."

Shock. She'd been so sure. How could he? Where had been her mistake? Her composure dissolved, and her glib tongue seemed curiously thick. "I… No, please. I can do whatever you want…" Her voice trailed away. Somehow, she'd lost him. She wondered if, at the last moment, he'd remembered the Companion he was so obviously stuck on. Or… that odd reference to Hell that seemed so at odds with his obvious disdain for religion. She'd lost him, and didn't know why. It was her most humiliating moment in years.

She considered alternatives. Leave now, simply lock him in his room, and continue with the plan? Possible, easy even, but it lacked savor. She reached for her dress, her back to him. "I've displeased you."

"No man could ever be displeased by such an offer. And like I said, Saffron, you're all kinds of pleasin. But I'm thinkin your gift is more precious for bein left unopened. Till you find a man who asks your hand with his eyes open…"

With her back safely to him, she rolled her eyes while she dressed and he finished his sappy speech. Then she turned to him with downcast eyes, thinking at breakneck speed. "I've never had a man treat me with such respect, sir. I've never heard of any bride being treated so. I can't say I understand what you want of me. But… if I'm to make my own way in the world, surely this is as good a place as any? I've no knowledge of work in a ship, but I can see I'd have my uses, as a cook at least, and I learn easily, I'm told. I won't cause you any more discomfort. I'll spend my nights in the room you gave me, and work hard, if only you'll let me stay." _You'll be amazed at how fast I learn, and how much. I'll have to do something about that strange girl, arrange an accident or get something on her to buy her silence. But the others will be clay shaped in my hands. A month from now, you'll all wonder how you ever got along without me. And when you see me as an equal, as a worthy partner and not some helpless waif, we'll revisit this scene, Captain Reynolds._

III

Mal turned the latches on the cryo box and lifted the lid to break the seal, and the box hissed as it quickthawed. He glared at the hwundan doctor squirming in Jayne's grip. "Let's see what a man like you would kill for." He kicked at the lid, and it slid back and fell.

The mist cleared to reveal a naked girl nestled in the box's recess She looked beautiful and completely helpless, obviously a prize of some sort.

It seemed that, as well as being a blackmailer, the doctor was a slaver. Or a kidnapper. In Mal's mind, there was scant difference.

"I've got to check her vitals." The doctor lunged against Jayne without effect. Mal caught the big merc's eye and nodded. Jayne let go and Doctor Tam rushed forward. As soon as he was in the clear, Mal drew and put a bullet between his eyes.

He was just holstering his pistol when he heard the scream behind him, and he turned to watch the girl climb out of the container and spill to the floor, shivering in terror. He reached for her and held her close. "Shh, little one. It's all right. No one's gonna hurt you. You're safe now." While she babbled nonsense into his shoulder, he nodded at the corpse. "Jayne, get that out of here before she sees it. She's shook up enough, she don't need any reminders about what almost happened to her."

III

"You're good," Saffron said to the Companion as they faced off on the catwalk with the alarm hooting.

"You're fantastic," Inara said with genuine respect. "Who _are_ you?"

Playing her last card against this woman, Saffron said, "Malcolm Reynolds's widow," and used the moment to force her way past to Shuttle Two, knowing the poor sap would chase her delusions to the captain's cabin while she made her escape.

She crossed the threshold into Shuttle Two's hold, and her head rebounded from a huge fist to strike the bulkhead. She sprawled unconscious to the floor.

Jayne stepped into view, shirtless and with his boots unlaced. He looked down at the insensible form. "Knew it." He glanced through the open hatch at Inara. "Good thing I was a mite slow gettin dressed, eh?"

"This never happened," she hissed. "Explain it however you like. I've got to go check on Mal."

"He shoulda traded her for Vera."

"You offered him a _gun_ for her?"

"Why not? I knew what she was way before the rest a ya. Who knows whores better'n me?"

"I suppose you include me in that assessment."

"Damn straight." He gripped the back of her head in one hand. "This won't be the last time. Sometimes you just need a change up from them Fancy Dans who hire you." He gave her a quick kiss as voices sounded from the hold below, followed by a gentle smack on the rump. "Better get."

After Inara left, he picked up the blanket they'd used, folded it, and stuffed it into a locker, enjoying the feel of her fingernail scratches on his shoulder blades as he worked. Then he retrieved his torn shirt from the corner where she'd tossed it. "So, Cap'n Tightpants. Your days a not takin me serious still at a middle, I wonder?"


	3. Chapter 3

_**If Atherton Wing had met 'BDM Mal' on the field of honor in 'Shindig':**_

Mist drifted across the clearing in the early morning light. Mal looked dubiously across the grassy space to Atherton Wing, who sneered at Mal as he limbered his wrist, sword in hand. Inara stood between, trying to appear neutral. Harrow, Mal's second in the coming duel, tried to look grave, but you could tell he was enjoying himself, and would call it an entertaining morning no matter which contestant ended up lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

Wing raised his blade, signaling his readiness to begin.

Mal stuck his blade straight out, wiggling it, with the other hand behind his back, looking like a hick pretending he knew how to fence. "Fore we get started, you mind answerin a couple questions about this little set-to? I'm a little fuzzy on details, bein a barbarian from the outer worlds and all."

"This is an affair of honor," Wing said impatiently. "What could possibly be unclear?"

"Just don't want to embarrass all present with some misunderstanding. If I lose my sword or break it, do we call the fight?"

"Hardly." The dandy and expert swordsman smirked. "That's rather a common occurrence. It ends the fight, but not the way you mean it."

"So, I don't get another one?"

"Oh, no." Wing's gaze turned reptilian. "We only get the weapons we begin with." He brought his blade down and up again, impatient. "And only one of us walks away."

"Well, what if we _both_ lose our swords, then?"

His opponent's brows gathered. "How could we _both _be disarmed? Quit stalling." The crowd stirred restlessly at the captain's apparent show of cowardice.

"Just cause it's never happened, doesn't mean it can't." Mal looked at Wing and the other assembled dandies. "Come on, fellas. It's your game. You should at least be able to explain the rules."

"No new weapons may be introduced. The duel is to the death." Atherton Wing took a step toward Mal, expression filled with menace. "Enough. Begin." He lowered his blade and advanced. Mal swung his blade wide, from the shoulder. The expert duelist smirked at the clumsy attack, and his blade rose to meet it, probably seconds away from a disarming move or a fatal blow.

The instant the swords crossed, Mal brought his left hand from behind his back and grabbed Wing's razor-sharp blade, trapping it and pushing it aside as he stepped closer. He struck Wing on the point of his chin with his sword's pommel, and the man dropped as if his legs had suddenly been amputated. Mal wrenched Wing's fancy sword from his numbed grasp as he went down.

While the dandy lay propped on his elbows, head wobbling, Mal looked at his left hand as it gripped the blade, the palm wound about with his belt. The spaces between the fingers were wet with blood. "Huh. That could have gone better. Hadn't counted on the back of the gorram thing bein sharp too. Still…" He cast both swords out of the circle. "Fight to the death, huh? This might take a while, Ath. If I'm careful."

III

The late morning sun beat down on the meadow, drying the grass and making it rasp as Mal stepped forward to deliver another kick to the crawling man. The heavy mist was long gone, replaced by the stink of vomit from the spectators, who were as constrained from leaving before the duel's conclusion as the contestants. Mal gave them a flat glance. "You all look kind of peaked. Guess a firm lesson in real manners doesn't digest so well."

Atherton lay curled on his side facing his attacker. As Mal stepped close, the man reached clumsily with both hands and gripped Mal's boot at the ankle, whether in an attempt to halt the next kick or as an act of supplication, he couldn't tell. Wing wasn't talking lately. The threats and curses had sort of withered away as _Serenity's_ captain had applied fists and forearms and feet to the man's face and body. The dandy hadn't made a sound aside from groans and sobs in the last hour. But Reynolds felt not an atom of pity for the man who would have made a game of killing him; point of fact, looking at what was left of Atherton Wing just made him angrier.

Ignoring the soiled heap at his feet, he addressed the crowd. "I've killed men, more than this peacock ever thought of. There are plenty good reasons for endin another man's life. To save your own, or them of folks you care about. To protect the innocent. To protect your country. Over your property, if you've poured your life into it. Others that don't come to mind just now."

He jerked his boot out of Wing's feeble grasp. "But you do _not-_" He swung his foot into the man's hip, delivering a blow that rolled him over with a cry. "Kill a man-" He followed, kicking Wing in the buttock. "To prove you're the cock with the biggest beak in the barnyard." He kicked once more, and his opponent lay still.

He looked the crowd over again. "This party ain't got a thing to do with honor. It's just a fancied-up schoolyard brawl. You sure found a way to make it all neat and tidy, though. Poke a hole in a man with a blade as long as your arm, so you can let the life out of him without dirtyin up your clothes, and a cleanup crew standin by to pick up the garbage while you go on to tea."

He stamped on Wing's groin, and the man made a noise that reminded Mal of a steam whistle. One of the spectators fell to his knees with his hands over his mouth, puke squirting between his fingers.

Harrow shook. "God's sake, man. Finish this."

"Oh, am I makin these fine folks late for another appointment? Crowding their schedules?" He rounded on the nearest of them with bared teeth, and they flinched back a step. "You know how you can tell when you're doin something important enough to kill a man over? When you can take his throat in your hands and watch the light fade out of his eyes as you keep him from drawin breath, and hate yourself more than the man you're killing. And still not regret doin it."

"Mal." Inara's poise was gone. Her voice trembled almost too hard to make the words out. "Let him live. I won't accept his offer. I, I'll retire, never accept another client. Don't kill him over me."

"Never planned to. I said so." He grasped Wing's right wrist and lifted the unresisting man's arm straight up. Then he kicked him in the elbow with a _crack_ that seemed to echo in the little meadow. The broken man moaned, and a number of spectators made choking noises. Ignoring it all, Mal gave the left elbow the same treatment. "Just in case. Now, unless you start specializing in duels with schoolboys, Ath, I'd say your days on the field of honor are done. I bet you're gonna be a much more forgivin man in future."

He turned and strode to Warrick Harrow, who stood as if frozen in place. He shoved his face into Harrow's, forcing the man back a step. "I came to you with a solid deal," he said in a low voice. "It's the only reason I was at that gorram party in the first place. And I near got skewered for it. Are we gonna do business together, or do I just have business with you?"

"I- Yes, yes, of course." Harrow's forehead was greasy with sweat. "I'll have my goods in your hold by tomorrow noon."

Mal nodded and walked away. As soon as it was clear the contest was finally over, most of the spectators had fled like sparrows seeing the shadow of a hawk on the ground below. But a few remained, held by duty, apparently. The master of ceremonies, his shiny silk turban askew, bent over Wing's broken form. "Captain, I strongly suggest this be the last time you ever visit Persephone."

Can't think of a reason I'd ever want to come back." He drew close to Inara. He offered an arm. "Mighty fine shindig."

She turned her back to him. "I'll keep my promise. But I didn't promise I'd go back to _Serenity_. Or ever speak to you again. I'll send for my things." She walked off without a goodbye.


	4. Chapter 4

Mal stood facing his 'rescuers', hands in the air, trying to convince himself the gun their captain was holding on him was a simple precaution. "Y'know, anything that's worth anything is right here in this cargo bay. So, you take a look around, decide what's fair."

"Already decided." The man fired once. Mal felt a familiar punch in the gut, the world tilted, and the deck smacked him in the back. He found himself staring blurrily up at the catwalk. His hand found the fiery pain in his belly and came away wet. "We're takin your ship."

The mule's underside, and the holstered automatic he'd attached there, were inches from his hand. Righteous anger filled _Serenity's_ captain, pushing the pain away, as he fumbled to free the weapon while he listened to the scheming hwundan giving orders aboard _his_ ship. It wasn't the only firearm he'd secreted about the ship before he'd opened the hatch. He just wished he'd been able to lay hands on a better to face them with. The mule had seemed the least likely place he'd need a gun, so the least piece in the gun locker had gone there. He doubted he could force them off the ship with it; even if he did, they probably would have to wait only a few minutes before boarding again, the way the wound was bleeding. But at least he'd settle with the leader before they brought him down.

He had just gotten the gun in his hand and was preparing to stand when a voice boomed out through the ship's speakers. "_Well, Mal, you was right. You just can't trust the kinda folks slip around in the back of the Black._"

Jayne.

A red dot appeared on the side of the pirate captain's head, then traveled down to the center of his chest as he turned towards the front of the hold. The man looked down at it. "Cy! You told me he was alone!"

"We looked in every room!" The men looked up into the shadowy ceiling of the forward hold, but there was too much clutter hanging in the shadows of that dim-lighted space to make anything out.

"_Bet I can drop all a ya before ya make it out of the hold,_" Jayne's voice went on. "_Startin with Cap'n Gosa there. If any of you do make it back to your door, for sure you won't get it shut in time. I got a grenade launcher and Willie-Petes._"

The pirates froze. A couple of white phosphorous grenades fired through the open hatch would be enough to set off a ship-killing fire. Their captain called up into the darkness, "You do that, you might burn up both ships. We'll all die."

"_Ayuh,_" Jayne replied cheerily. "_Kinda exhiliratin, innit_?"

Mal stood unsteadily and pointed his gun at the man holding the catalyzer. "He ain't all right in the head, but he's a crack shot, and a terror in a firefight." He waggled the weapon. "I'm feelin a mite touchy myself right now."

Without waiting for an order, the man stooped, carefully placed the part in the floor grate, and stepped back.

The leader took a step towards the hatch. "You got what you wanted. We're leavin."

"_Not so fast._" The dot leaped to the open hatch and the inside of the other ship. The pirates froze again.

"Let em go, Jayne," Mal said. "He's right. We got the part." _And besides,_ he thought, _I don't know how much longer I can stand._

"_Ain't enough. I'm thinkin you owe us something for the aggravation. Plus, you shot my captain. I don't hold with that, less I do it. Strip._"

They looked at one another. "Strip?"

"_Your guns are feioo, and I bet you got nothing else I want, but I gotta take what I can get. Sides,_" he said, "_maybe your escape'll seem tighter if you go back to your ship nekkid as newborns. You need a better lesson bout dealin fair with strangers. Skin down._"

Weapons and belts rattled on the deck, followed by the thump of boots. One of the pirates was a woman, and somewhat comely, and Mal put down the impulse to avert his eyes as she shrugged out of her bibs and crossed her arms to lift the hem of her shirt. In a few minutes, it was done, and the five stood shivering on the cold plates. The leader glared up into the dark. "That it? Are we done?"

"_Almost. Turns out you got something I want after all." _The red dot swung over to rest on the collarbone of the woman. "_She stays. Bet she'll fetch a decent price on Heaven's Gate, once I train her proper._" The dot returned to the pirate captain's chest. "_Don't act all put out about it. I know what kinda folk I'm dealin with. Even if one a ya's tuppin her, you'll do it without lookin back to save your skins. Best leave her quick, while it's still sinkin in. She'll make less of a fuss that way._"

The pirate captain shrugged and turned for the door, and the other three men filed out behind him. The woman watched them go with wide eyes. "Cal…"

Whichever one 'Cal' was, he paid her no more notice than the others. The other captain, with one bare foot on the icy ramp, said, "You'd have done the same."

"We're provin right now that's not true," Mal said before he realized the hundan was talking to the girl. He waggled the pistol. "Get the hell off my boat." To the girl he said, "Close it up." When she didn't move, he wiggled the pistol towards the control pedestal. "Close it _up_." As soon as the doors thunked closed, he leaned heavily on the mule, almost too weary to speak.

From the darkness at the top of the forward hold, the end of a rope dropped almost to the deck. With a slithery sound, a spacesuited figure slid into view, one hand holding a rifle with an underslung grenade launcher, the other checking the line attached to his belt. Through the transparent faceplate, Jayne's features were clearly visible. He touched boots to the plates, slung the weapon over his shoulder, and twisted off his helmet. Jayne tromped towards the two at the hatch, his eyes traveling all over the naked girl, who tried to cover herself with her hands. He grinned shamelessly. "Kinda cold in here, innit?"

Mal slumped against the mule, but with his best effort kept his feet under him, barely, and the darkness at arm's length. He could hear thumps and squeals through the hull as the other ship uncoupled and disembarked. "Get your clothes on, girl. Jayne, why aren't you on Inara's shuttle?"

Jayne took the captain's arm and draped it around his neck. "This gonna take long? I kinda wanna move past the 'I gave you an order' gosa and get on to 'thanks for savin all our lives'." He pulled until the deck was solidly under Mal's feet again. "You're tappin out. We gotta get you to sickbay and close you up."

The girl stood with her bibs clutched to her, but hadn't dressed. Jayne, his humor gone, growled. "What are you starin at? You got all your marbles, ain't ya?" He grumbled, "Last thing we need's another moonbrain female on board."

The girl eyed the weapons on the floor.

"Think it through," Jayne said. "You really wanna go back to them?"

"I don't want to end up in a crib on Heaven's Gate either." She had a nice voice, Mal thought, beginning to feel woozy again.

"Not likely," Jayne said, turning his back on her. With one hand on Mal's wrist and the other around his waist, the big merc started to walk him forward to the hatch leading to sickbay. "Captain'd never stand for me sellin you. I held you back cause I saw the look on your face when that hwundan shot him, and all the looks you gave him after. Didn't seem right to leave you with those lieu mangs. I just wanted to open your eyes a little, so you didn't miss em much. If you're real grateful, though, or just lookin for a bunkie, I'm open to suggestion."

"Show her the empty port bunk, across from Kaylee," Mal grunted. "If she wants to sleep somewhere else, that's her business. After she puts in the catalyzer." They paused at the hatch. "You know how, right?"

"Sort of," she said doubtfully.

An alarm went off, accompanied by a recorded voice. "_Life support failure. Check oxygen levels at once._" It began to repeat the warning in Mandarin.

"Good time to learn," Mal said, as Jayne almost lifted him over the hatch coaming and stumbled with him down the stairs. The girl followed them down, still half- dressed and barefoot.

Jayne yanked on the infirmary door, and turned to look at her. "Cap'n gave you an order, girlie. You crew or not?"

As the big merc eased him onto the exam table, Mal said, "Why'd you save her, Jayne?"

Jayne opened Mal's bloody shirt. "Dunno, really. She just didn't belong there. I just… my life ain't exactly been fulla second chances. Maybe if I pay forward, it means somebody owes me one." He applied a compression bandage to the wound. Mal groaned in pain and almost blacked out.

"Stay with me, Mal," Jayne said, seemingly from crew quarters. "Where we headed next?"

"Greenleaf." He struggled to concentrate. "And after that, Ariel."

The alarm fell silent, and a breeze moved through the compartment.


End file.
